Community Tiles

First week in Morocco! My goodness have I been through a roller-coaster! Far too much has happened in my first seven days for me to possibly describe (or even mention) everything. Instead, I will write a few anecdotes of my adventures so far.

To begin, I became sick with a fever during the flight from Philadelphia to Paris. While at that point in time I thought it was just fatigue from travel, by Tuesday it was quite clear that I was sick and needed lots of sleep and fluids. Unfortunately, sleep is a rather precious thing to come by while on a week-long orientation to a foreign country, speaking a foreign language, and living in a hotel room with four other girls.

But everyone has been really lovely and lenient. My roommates for the week let me keep our room a very dark and quiet space. In any case, I believe they were far more interested in exploring Morocco and each other than remaining in our hotel room (as lovely and comfortable as it may be).

My academic directors suggested I go to a clinic with an English-speaking doctor and have him examine me in case I had something much more serious than the garden variety cold. So on Tuesday morning, instead of attending an orientation lecture, I caught a cab (for the first time in my life) across town to the clinic. Asmae (my director) had given me a note card with the name of the clinic and my doctor written in both English and Arabic. That card allowed me to navigate both the streets of Rabat and the extremely busy clinic with surprising ease, even with a cold.

Now for a little story:

After I had shown the receptionist my card with the intent of my visit, I was shown down a small side corridor to a row of four seats lining the hall. Three older women sat huddles with drawn and forlorn faces. I was not sure what or where exactly I was supposed to be at the moment, so I started to simply stand awkwardly (and sickly). However, this did not last long as the elderly woman furthest from me humphed loudly and glared at me while slapping the seat next to her, clearly indicating that I was supposed to sit down. I promptly sat and she smiled broadly, but then just as quickly, she returned to her quiet and morose dejection. The four of us sat in silence for a few uncounted passing minutes.  The middle woman murmured in Darija (Moroccan Arabic) and pulled out a phone book and her cell phone. Quickly all three ladies were typing away into their cell phones, sending texts and calls in rapid unison.

Shortly after this sudden burst of activity, a stretcher carrying an unconscious young woman rolled past our four-body post. All three women stood in unison, following silently after. I was now alone in my make-shift waiting area. I did not wait long until I was joined by a middle-aged woman with long dark hair. She was much more anxious in her movements, and repeatedly stood to greet each new occupant of our hallway. And they were many. Elderly women and men, young men and women, men in suits with polished shoes and brief cases, young men with black leather jackets and greased black hair. Soon a crowd of nearly thirty people were squished into the small hallway, greeting each other jovially and enthusiastically with kisses and hugs, as though I was watching a family reunion. But then they all fell to anxious muttering and sighs. Suddenly, the group’s attention was drawn to the end of the hall in which the three older women and the stretcher had disappeared. It was now rolling back through. As the stretcher rolled silently past, the group slowly took pace behind it, and soon the hallway was emptied once more.

It was at that point I realized that I had indeed just witnessed a family reunion of sorts. And it was the first time I experienced the depth and mobility of community support here.  I understood then as well why there were so many people in the lobby, though not many of them seemed to be seeking medical help. They were there to support their loved ones. I can’t help but feel happy for being here.

Now I have already gone and written more than a full page, so I will let everyone get back to their lives again. Thank You for reading!

Some pictures of the Center for Cross Cultural Learning, where I attend class: